Immortal Prey

by Diana Ballew

  Chapter Ten

  Everett, Washington

  The question weighed on Erin’s mind. Would Washington be the first state in the twentieth century to enact women’s suffrage? Already, Wyoming, Utah, Idaho, and Colorado had seen fit for women to vote. With hard work and a measure of good luck, perhaps she would soon join the ranks of those allowed at the polls.

  The Women’s Suffrage Club had worked tirelessly getting the word out and their voices heard during the campaign. She attended public rallies and paid visits to granges, labor unions, and the Farmers Union. The most important work came from the door-to-door visits she made to mothers, grandmothers, wives, daughters, and sisters. It would come down to their influence on the men in their lives as they headed to the polls to vote.

  Today was their last chance to make a difference. All morning and afternoon, she and Delia handed out flyers, knocked on doors, and talked to people on the streets. They had just left a front porch when a deep voice called out.

  “Miss Richland.”

  Erin turned to see a coachman tugging the reins, pulling the horses to the side of the street. Derek sat in the back of the carriage.

  “Oh, my God almighty,” Delia whispered. “Would you look who’s here?” She smoothed her skirts and puckered her lips.

  Erin turned away on her heels and whispered, “Oh, my heavens, I don’t want to see him.”

  Delia’s lips formed a generous pout. “My stars. Why not? Have you seen what that man looks like?”

  Erin turned up her nose and headed for the house next door. “Well, if you like him so much, you go talk to him.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Delia grabbed Erin’s arm and pointed. “Just look at him sitting all alone in the back of that fine carriage.”

  “But I don’t —”

  Delia spun her around by the shoulders, aiming her toward the carriage. Erin’s gaze instantly locked with Derek’s.

  “Lucky girl.” Delia poked the small of her back, urging Erin forward. “Well, go on — get.”

  Erin stepped toward the carriage, one numb foot in front of the other, until she reached the coach door. “Good afternoon, Mr. Rudliff.”

  A dazzling smile spread beneath his mustache. “Good afternoon to you, as well, Miss Richland. Say, I was heading home and spotted you. Would like to join me for supper?”

  She thumbed the last few flyers in her hand. “Oh, no, I can’t possibly. I still have to hand these out.”

  He glanced at the scant amount of paper left in her hand. “That shouldn’t take long. Perhaps you can hand those out later. I thought we could start the interview for the paper.” Dark eyebrows arched high. “You are interested in a story, correct?”

  She looked back at Delia, whose eyebrows waggled up and down. She turned to Derek. “I —”

  He winked. “I promise I’ll escort you home myself later.”

  Erin sucked in her cheeks, contemplating the situation. He looked devilishly handsome in his dark waistcoat and top hat, and saying no to those incredible blue eyes somehow felt wrong. On second thought, she did need to get that article for the newspaper.

  “Sounds lovely. Yes, I’ll join you.”

  He stepped out of the carriage and opened the door, towering over her by at least a foot.

  “Splendid.” He guided her by the arm into the polished brougham.

  “Oh, wait.” She stuck her head out the open door. “Delia, are you comfortable walking back?” She turned to Derek. “Perhaps this isn’t a good idea. I really should —”

  “Miss Delia?” Derek called. “May I give you a ride home?”

  Delia meandered toward the carriage, her ample hips swaying in an exaggerated sashay. “Why, Mr. Rudliff, how very thoughtful of you,” she said. “I need to check on my elderly widowed aunt two doors that-a-way.” She pointed. “Perhaps another —”

  “Ah, very well, then,” Derek replied. “Good day.”

  He scooted in beside Erin and tapped the ceiling. Instantly, the driver snapped the buggy whip and urged the horses to a trot.

  With every clomping hoof, Erin’s heart thumped in reply. Moisture dotted her face and neck. Oh, Lord, what am I doing here? “Excuse me, Mr. Rudliff. I … I have to go. I forgot —”

  A warm hand slid over hers, expressive eyes meeting hers. “Miss Richland.” He paused. “Erin, calm yourself. It’s going to be all right.”

  Something in his eyes reminded her of a faraway dream. She wrenched her gaze from his and snatched her hand back. “You don’t understand.”

  “What don’t I understand? That what we both feel at this moment is uncomfortable? I assure you, Erin, I understand more than you know.”

  The soothing tone of his voice calmed her. Just as her heartbeat slowed, a troubling thought intruded. What if the attractive red-head was there? “Um, will it just be the two of us for supper?”

  “No.”

  Her stomach leaped into her throat. “Oh, I see. You know, I just remembered something. On second thought, perhaps —”

  “My cook will be there as well as the butler. Is that a problem?”

  “Oh!” she said, louder than expected. “No, no, of course not.”

  The horses trotted down the quiet street, pulling up to the large house sitting high above the bluff. Derek stepped out and escorted her along the path to the front door.

  “Will that be all for now, sir?” his driver called.

  “For now, Franz. I’ll be calling upon you later when we take Miss Richland home.”

  “Yes, sir.” He nodded and tipped his hat before descending the carriage to tend to the horses.

  She scrunched up her nose and whispered, “Is it me, or is he rather sinister?”

  Derek laughed so hard she thought the neighbors would hear. “Who, Franz? He is unusual, but I wouldn’t say he’s ‘sinister,’ per se. He’s a good man, I assure you, but I suppose with that scowl he wears night and day he might appear that way to others.”

  Upon entering the grand foyer, the butler took her coat and hung it in the scrolled armoire. A sprightly, plump woman entered the room. “Ah, Master Rudliff, will there be two for supper?” she asked, wiping a wet paring knife on her crisp white apron.

  “Yes, Hannah. Make that two for supper.”

  An old-world air of sophistication permeated the walls and tall ceiling of the massive home. Having been there during the costume party with the mass of costumed people and dim lighting, she had not been able to fully appreciate the unique setting until now.

  “Oh, my,” she muttered, walking down the hall and seeing the large windows facing the back. “I forgot what an extraordinary view you have.”

  Numerous sailing ships and small boats dotted the deep blue waters below. Centered in one of the large windows, the sun slipped low, spreading like a shimmering fan across the horizon, softening everything in its amber glow. To the left, majestic snow-topped mountains poked heavenward. And to the north lay the vast evergreen-laden island of Whidbey.

  “So pretty,” she called, turning and bumping hard into Derek’s chest. She stepped back. “I’m sorry. I thought you were —” Secure hands caught her shoulders, settling her back in place.

  Derek smiled. “No, it’s all right. My fault. I was looking at the same view over your shoulder.”

  She cleared her throat. “What I was saying is, you have a truly lovely view.”

  He tilted his chin and gazed out the window. “It’s beginning to feel more and more like a home every day.”

  They stood inches apart, yet a charged energy moved within the small space between them. Standing next to him, his tall, lean body next to hers somehow made everything around her feel brighter, more alive, different, and yet, so very familiar. She closed her eyes, welcoming the tingling sensation sweeping across her skin.

  “Dinner is served,” Hannah said, breaking the spell.

  “Ah, thank you, Hannah.” Derek turned to Erin. “Shall we, my dear?”

  The long dining table had been set for two.
Elegant china, silverware, linen napkins, and silver goblets tastefully adorned the crisp tablecloth. Hannah emerged with a sterling tray topped with grilled salmon surrounded by roasted potatoes, carrots, and turnips. The aroma was nothing less than intoxicating. The servant scurried through the swinging door and returned moments later, filling their chilled goblets with chardonnay.

  “To you,” Derek said, extending his goblet.

  She smiled. “And to you.”

  Several minutes passed in silence. Finally, Erin said, “What do you think of the women’s suffrage vote?”

  His brow wrinkled into a deep seam, and his gaze shifted from hers. “I don’t know if this is what you wish to hear, but I’m … I’m rather old-fashioned.”

  “Oh, I see.” She sighed heavily. “So you’re against it.”

  He eyed her over the rim of his goblet, his gaze so penetrating she wondered if he were reading her thoughts.

  “Please don’t misunderstand me.” He set the glass down. “I’m not saying a woman’s voice is less important than a man’s. Quite the contrary.” He took a hefty bite of his salmon followed by another drink of wine. “For example, if a woman wants to return flowers a man with only the best of intentions had sent her, she has every right to do so without so much as word, don’t you agree?”

  Oh, Lord. Did he really just ask that? She stared at him with her mouth agape.

  He laughed. “What? The flowers I sent to you were returned by you. What can I say? I took it to heart.”

  Resisting a smile, she frowned and waved a finger at him. “Oh, I think you’ll live.”

  “Back to the women’s vote.” He waved his hand dismissively. “So many men feel threatened by women. I can tell you from years of firsthand experiences, women are not only nurturers, they are also very deep thinkers.”

  Erin’s stomach flip-flopped. Was he referring to his dead wife, mother, sisters, recent conquests? Perhaps the lovely red-head? She realized she really knew very little about Derek Rudliff, but the more time she spent with him the more she enjoyed his company.

  She raised her chin. “Some men think if a woman votes she’ll stop sewing their socks, minding the children, or discontinue preparing the meals. It’s absurd, really.”

  He looked her squarely in the eyes. “Yes, but is it such a vile thought to know a man might prefer his woman above all else in the world?”

  The soulful, penetrating stare caught her off guard. “But Derek. That is not what’s at stake here. A woman can love and be loved, and still have a voice on issues that matter to everyone.”

  His eyes paled to a lighter shade of blue. “It’s not that.” He cast his attention to his dinner plate and poked a turnip with a fork. “I agree with you, but perhaps we should talk about something else.”

  Had she said something wrong? For a moment he had looked miserable, heartbroken. Had he been thinking about his deceased wife? After all, he still wore his wedding ring.

  Wrapped in two thick blankets and sitting side-by-side on a lounger on the back porch, they drank brandy and watched the last of the setting amber sun. A majestic bald eagle flew overhead with a salmon clutched in its talons. Smaller birds flew in its wake, swooping wildly and pecking at the large creature, urging it to move on.

  Erin set her brandy glass down. “So, you’ve decided to grant the newspaper an interview.”

  Derek set his glass down next to hers. “Ah, business talk now. I assume you heard my conditions?”

  “You will only grant an interview if I do it, yes?”

  “Yes.” He leaned in. “But I must confess, Miss Richland. I know I said otherwise, but when I invited you here for dinner this evening, it wasn’t just business I had on my mind.” His eyes locked with hers.

  She stared into the bottomless depths, his gaze so piercing she couldn’t blink. “But … but you insisted that I conduct the interview and nobody else, correct?”

  “I did, indeed.”

  I did indeed. Those three words had rolled off his tongue, smooth as polished silk, and just as potent as his masculine scent wafting into her nose. Those eyes, dear God, she could get lost inside their azure depths if she dared allow herself.

  She ripped her gaze from his. “Why must it only be me?”

  “It’s simple, really. I trust you.”

  Derek was a man she barely knew, but his words of trust comforted her. “Why do I get the feeling you would prefer I conduct the interview on another day?”

  He stretched and casually draped an arm across her shoulders. “You get that feeling because you’re correct. Truth be told, another time and place would be much better. I’m enjoying this moment with you, Erin.”

  Feeling the heat of his arm across her shoulders, hearing him call her by her given game, everything felt so perfect.

  Derek’s eyes brightened. “I have an idea. Suppose with this exclusive interview I take you to my logging camps. Show you the ins and outs of the business — then to the mills. Give you an authentic firsthand experience.”

  Erin stared past him, imagining her byline in the paper, “Erin Richland Granted Exclusive Interview with Timber Baron Rudliff — The Man, The Business.” Her father would undoubtedly allow her any story after that.

  She smiled. “Well, going there would take care of the business side of Derek Rudliff, I suppose,” she said. “But I’d also like to report about you — the man — what makes you tick. Who you are. Who you really are — make sense? If you would grant me the personal side of you as well, you would be doing me an enormous favor. Many citizens would like to know more about you.”

  “I hope that includes you,” he said, fingering a thread of her hair that had come loose from her chignon. “I adore your hair worn down, like the night of the party. It’s beautiful.”

  She gazed at the last spark of the setting sun glowing like a dying ember in Derek’s eyes. God knows, she had been attracted to him from the very first moment she first gazed into the sapphire depths of his eyes.

  She reached up and slowly pulled the pins from her hair and shook it into a loose spill. The long ebony mass cascaded across his arm draped over her shoulders. “Better?”

  “Much better,” he whispered, taking a strand and rubbing it between his fingers. “So soft. So beautiful.”

  He spoke in a tenor as smooth as watered silk. For a split second, she felt as though she could see into the deep depths of his eyes, clear through to his soul. She craved his touch, and, by God, there was certainly no reason why she shouldn’t kiss him. Yes, perhaps too much wine had been poured, but that was no excuse. She wanted him, simple as that.

  She leaned in, and their faces poised mere inches apart. The invisible energy she had felt earlier floated between them again, swirling and stinging like the soft prick of tiny pins against her skin.

  She closed her eyes.

  Tender, gentle lips covered hers. He wrapped her hair around his hand, pulling her against his chest, kissing her harder, his tongue devouring the delicate depths of her mouth.

  With a soft moan, she wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers along the collar at his nape. She explored his mouth as their tongues joined in a sultry dance of seduction.

  She inched away and whispered in his ear, “What is it about you?”

  He moved her long mane aside and kissed the back of her neck. “How do you mean?” he whispered.

  “I don’t know how to explain it. You’re so familiar and yet … you’re not.”

  The darkness of night crouched around them, and the sounds of barking sea lions echoed across the water. Sharp squawks of fleeing gulls pierced the sky above, while the glowing ships bobbed gently in the current below.

  “Not everything can be easily explained,” he breathed against her neck.

  He kissed her again, deeply, and she instantly melded into his embrace.

  “Lord, woman.” He pressed his lips against her cheek. “I so desire you.” His hands slid across the small of her back, his fingertips digging in. “Tel
l me you want this as much as I do. Tell me you’ve thought of our previous night together just as I have.”

  His hands, his touch — her body responded, growing warm, flushing in all the right places. She slid her hands up his chest, gently fingering between the small buttonholes, touching the curls on his broad chest. She gazed into his eyes. “I do, and I have. I tried not to think of you. I was dreadfully embarrassed, but being with you here … now.”

  That was the truth, so help her God.

  The entire week she could not focus, whether during a business meeting, personal time, or out with Frederick. More times than not, she would catch herself reliving their sensual journey the night of the party when they made love amid the strange surroundings in the house. The eerie costumes, the warming punch, the sultry sounds and hazy glimpses of pleasure in the other rooms — it was all so surreal, so primal, and not easy to push from her mind.

  A lone great blue heron silently glided by, looking like a prehistoric pterodactyl, its massive wings and long, spindly legs weaving mightily through a rising patch of autumn fog.

  Derek’s hand brushed the side of her breast, and his mouth sought hers once again. He kissed her deeply, passionately, and a gravelly moan escaped his throat.

  A dizzying wave of desire flooded her veins, flushing her chest and breasts. Sliding her hands up the firm length of his back, she returned the heated kiss, relishing the feel of his warm tongue dancing seductively with hers.

  He scooped her up, blanket and all, and headed inside.

  Erin gave no resistance — she had none — for she craved making love as much as he did.

  “Say the words, and we can stop now,” he whispered, his eyes glowing in the soft candlelight of his bedroom.

  She looked into his eyes and kissed his cheek in reply.

  With a swift kick of his boot, Derek shut the bedroom door and gently laid her down on the silky bedding.

  He lay next to her and stared into her eyes, his smoldering gaze holding her in place.

  He dipped his head and gently kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, her earlobe. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his breath searing hot upon her ear.